He paused for a moment. “That’s my guess. Now may I offer a suggestion, for what it’s worth?”
“Go on.”
“You have one terrible weakness. In mending another’s life you are infallible. You are less sure when it comes to taking care of your own. The thought that you might be prompted by selfish motives would be enough to make you refrain from interference. But have you the right to stand by and see two lives drifting on a course that might entail your own destruction? If you had been able to put yourself irrevocably into my keeping, that would have been one thing. But you weren’t quite. At the same time you came far enough in my direction to jeopardize your old security. If you were to become lost, now, on no man’s land, I should never forgive myself for letting myself be persuaded by you . . . I’ve put an extreme case because I know you’re not afraid of facing any conceivable contingencies.”
“There’s more in it than that,” she finally replied, and her voice announced a maturity born of suffering. “Because it’s a relationship for which I am responsible. If I were to get lost on no man’s land, which isn’t at all likely, it would be a direct result of my objection to trenches, and no one but myself could be made to pay the penalty of my recklessness. I brought Miriam here for my own reasons, and kept her here. Keble and I were traveling independently; for I couldn’t resist dashing off his pathway whenever the mood seized me. The more liberties I took, the more obvious it became that Miriam and Keble had a similar gait. They were always there, together. I was glad for Keble’s sake, and certainly, since I felt free to scamper about in any direction I chose, I couldn’t deny him the right to the companionship of any one who could keep in step with him. People have to have companions.
“I have even been glad for Miriam’s sake. Miriam gave me more than I asked of her. At times I must have got on her nerves. What had she by way of compensation? By way of penalty she had a gradual alienation from her old life. I could no more think of destroying her new sources of interest than I could think of destroying the new sources of interest to which she brought me the clue. The fact that Keble may have become the central figure of Miriam’s new interests is an accident over which I have no control, just as the fact that you became a vital force in my new enthusiasms was an accident over which Keble had no control, over which no one but myself had any control, and not even until I had learned its full significance. Life is an uncharted ocean full of such reefs; only fools try to sail through them; wise people sail around them. If I’ve learned anything in the last two years I’ve learned that freedom, like everything worth having, costs heavily; every great happiness is bought at the price of a great unhappiness. That’s only fair. And I won’t be niggardly . . . When Keble and Miriam learn the full significance of their problem, as I have already done, they will find their own solution. Human liberty means that, if it means anything . . .
“You and I fought out our issue and came to our conclusion, which happened to be that our ways lie apart. You have the song of your secret bird. I have something equivalent,—though it doesn’t exactly sing! If one has played the game according to one’s own rules, and not cheated,—not enough to count,—then that in itself puts a sort of backbone into one’s life . . . At times a lot of horrid little devils come tripping up through me, tempting me to be cheap and jealous, to interfere, to kick and scratch,—oh Mr. Dare dear, why do you let me say all these rubbishy things? I talk like a book of sermons to convince myself, but the real me is terribly wordless and weak and silly and bad and preposterous——”
She broke down, and Dare drew her head to his side, stroking her hair and patting courage into her shoulders.
2
Once Dare was safely on the high road towards recovery his progress was rapid. Before long he was able to walk into the maze of trails which led away from the end of the lake, and the day at length came when Dr. Bruneau lifted the ban.
Clad in fresh garments, Louise and Dare made a bonfire of the clothing and bedding and books from the cabin. “There go all the outlived parts of us,” Dare commented as the flames leaped up into the frosty blue-grey morning air. “We’ll be phoenixes. . . . I shall never be able to express my gratitude to you; a man has nothing to say to the person who has saved his life, any more than he has to say to the forces that originally gave life to him. He can only accept, marvel, venerate, and use!”